


Only in America

by EldritchSandwich



Category: Saints Row
Genre: BDSM, Drunk Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Resolved Sexual Tension, Saints Row 1, Saints Row 2 - Freeform, Saints Row Gat Out of Hell, Saints Row IV, Saints Row The Third, Sexy Sandwich, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Saints Row series retold via the sexual conquests of America Ortega, the most powerful woman in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skins

When she was thirteen, America Elena Ortega learned that boys were assholes who became completely useless when there was a pair of tits in their face.

She'd been playing with the boys of Encanto for as long as she could remember, and kicking their asses at hoops for almost as long. But today, Hector Almodovar was standing in the gate to the court, smirking.

"But see we all talked about it, and we don't want to play with a girl."

America folded her arms across her jersey, still not used to the bulge of her growing breasts. "A girl who kicks your ass every time, you mean."

"No, a girl who should be in the kitchen with mami makin' us lunch!" Bobby Lopez shouted from inside, and a few of the others laughed while just as many looked uncomfortable.

America's eyes narrowed and she pushed a lock of short black hair out of her eyes. "Come on, don't be stupid, I always play with you guys. You don't even have enough people!"

Hector looked back at Luis, who grinned encouragingly. When Hector turned back, he had the same look on his face. "Yeah, but see...we're playing shirts and skins. And we've already got enough shirts."

America didn't even hesitate, and every eye on the court went wide as the jersey dropped to the ground. Hector just stared as she pushed her way inside then turned around, hands spread wide in challenge. "Gimme the rock."

Skins won eleven to two. The spread probably would have been wider if America's teammates hadn't been staring just as hard as their opponents.


	2. Happy Ending

When she was eighteen, America Elena "Skins" Ortega learned that she became just as useless when there was a pair of tits in her face.

All she'd wanted was to buy some weed without having to suck a guy's dick. That should have been simple enough, but Encanto's dealers had all been absorbed by Los Carnales over the years, which meant they could do whatever they wanted without having to worry about losing their customers. After the third one had made it clear in no uncertain terms that there was exactly one way for a pretty teenage girl to pay for anything, she'd been forced to go to Chinatown.

And thus she found herself in a seedy massage parlor, beating the shit out of a businessman with her bare hands.

It hadn't been something she'd been looking for. She'd gone through a string of contacts who led her to the receptionist, who muttered something in Cantonese and poked a finger toward the end of the hall. She tried to ignore the obvious sounds of happy endings coming from beyond the paper walls, and she was doing a pretty good job until one of the doors ripped open, a half-naked Asian girl thrashing with her arm caught in the grip of a cursing white guy.

"The fuck do you think you're going? You know what I paid for..."

"You not pay for anything! You get out! Let me go!"

The man was starting to win the battle for leverage, and the other doors were remaining stubbornly shut. America felt a growl rising in her throat.

"Hey, culero! She said get the fuck off!"

The man looked down, fundamentally unimpressed by a lanky teenage girl in a basketball jersey. "Fuck off, spic. Go back to the barrio and learn how to suck cock like mommy."

Most people wouldn't have thought a pretty teenage girl could fistfight. Those people weren't from Encanto, and thus weren't aware of what had happened to all the boys who'd said that kind of thing about either Skins Ortega or her mother and didn't have Los Carnales to back them up. When the first punch hit his jaw with much more force than he could possibly have seen coming, the businessman ceased to be one of those people.

Given how often she got herself into trouble, America had learned to use her speed in a fight, and she managed to get in three solid, closed fists to the man's face before he backhanded her, the unexpected force slamming her against the wall. When he made the mistake of turning back toward the masseuse, America's sneaker came up between his legs, followed by an elbow in his back as he doubled over. The girl screamed as he collapsed, which was apparently finally enough to get two burly, featureless security guys to show up.

When one of them grabbed America by the shoulder, the masseuse started shrieking at him in Japanese. He pulled back, helping his buddy lift the dissatisfied customer, muttering something about a 'refund.'

As the masseuse leaned over her to slide the door closed, America realized it was now just the two of them.

The Asian girl laid a hand on America's swollen cheek, and the Latina swallowed; when she'd jumped to her rescue, she hadn't realized how pretty the girl was.

"You okay?"

The hand moved to her bruised nose, and America nodded. "Fine." She scrubbed a hand across her mouth. "What was up with that asshole, anyway?"

The girl helped her up to sit on the massage table, wordlessly reaching for a bowl of warm water and a towel from the rack on the wall. "He say he want blowjob. I say not that kind of happy ending we do. He say he pay double for blowjob. I say rules are hands only. Then he grab my head, try make me suck him off!" The girl smiled, dabbing gently at the swiftly-forming bruise on America's cheek. "Thank you for help me. Madam Wu not care what happen back here!"

The girl scooted closer, and America went tense as she suddenly felt the flesh of her breasts through her half-open kimono. Unfortunately, the girl noticed. "It hurt?"

"No! No. I just...I can see why a guy would want more from you. I mean, you're really pre...really sexy." America winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth; as if the way she looked at girls wasn't embarrassing enough without telling people about it.

The masseuse blinked, then a slow smile spread across her face. "You know, I have twenty minute now. Maybe I say thank you with...free massage?"

"I don't..." America's voice dropped dead as the girl stood and parted her robe, revealing firm, perky breasts, a slender waist, and a shaved pussy.

"You still think I sexy?" America just nodded mutely, amazed she could get her head to move at all. "Then lie on back."

America complied, swallowing nervously as the young woman trailed the edge of the jersey up over her chest. She hissed as her thick nipples were revealed to the cold air, then again when the girl's warm hands effortlessly slid her out of her shorts.

Just as America wondered whether she was supposed to turn over, the girl began to knead her hips. "Just relax. I do this every day."

America swallowed again. Relaxing was the last thing on her mind.

The Japanese girl's hands made gentle circles across her thighs, moving slowly up her stomach and leaving America's skin feeling like it was on fire.

"You like to look at girls?" As the girl's warm, slim fingers kneaded the skin just below her breasts, America just nodded. "You have girlfriend?"

America scoffed. "I don't think there's a lot of other tortilleras in Encanto..."

The masseuse giggled. "Ooh, I think you wrong. You so pretty and so strong, I think you get any girl you want..."

The gentle hands cupped her breasts, and America gasped. She had to fight to keep from squirming as the girl rolled the firm mounds under her palms, nipples growing painfully hard under her ministrations.

"Every girl want other girls. They just don't know it...and I think you show them..."

America moaned as one hand trailed down to cup her snatch, running through the curly black hair before rubbing across the mound. "I so grateful, I think I give you extra-happy ending."

America groaned in disappointment as the hands retreated, only for the masseuse to turn and use them to part her thighs. As pale lips moved downwards and smoky eyes held hers, America's breathing grew rapid. The masseuse smiled. "I think just this once, I break the rules..."

The smiling mouth descended, and any thought of how she was going to break this to her mother was blown from America's head.


	3. Canonized

When she was nineteen, Skins Ortega learned where she belonged.

Like every other big turn in her life, joining the Saints hadn't been something America had planned. She'd been walking the Row, celebrating the newfound sense of freedom that only being unceremoniously kicked out of college less than a month in could provide. That ill-advised little detour, courtesy of a minority scholarship and an overzealous English teacher, hadn't been something she'd planned either.

Getting involved in a drive-by and saved by an idealist also wouldn't have been her choice. Even when she made her way to the old church on the Row and got the shit beaten out of her by way of initiation, she felt somehow like she wasn't in charge of her own destiny.

Slamming Lin up against the wall of the church basement and biting down on her bottom lip until she moaned, however, had been a plan.

Lin returned the kiss enthusiastically, even if she had no idea what to do with her hands. When America made the choice for her, moving them out of the way to let her unzip and pull off her top, the Asian Saint sucked in a gasp. "I've never done anything like this before."

America just nodded brusquely, Lin moaning as the muscular Latina's fingers tweaked her now painfully-exposed nipples. "I believe you."

"I've wanted to..."

"I believe you."

"Have you been with a lot of girls?"

"Are you gonna talk, or are you gonna get eaten out?" America growled as she pulled at the waist of the slender Saint's pants.

"Are you sure we should be doing this here? What if someone oh fuck holy shit!"

Lin squealed as America's nose and tongue parted her folds, the Latina humming in satisfaction to find her already moist. "You want this bad, don't you?"

Lin blushed, and the sight made America grin. "Are you gonna talk, or am I gonna get eaten out?"

America hummed again, the vibration of her lips between Lin's legs making the girl gasp. "I haven't decided. I think it depends on how good you are at begging..."

Lin swallowed, a furtive glance toward the stairs leading up to the Saints' church proper cut short when a teasing finger tickled through the puff of black hair above her clit. "Please, eat me..."

America pressed her lips against the slick, hot skin. "Louder."

"Eat my pussy! Please..."

"Dirtier," America growled. She sank her fingernails into the other Saint's muscular thighs, and Lin mewled in frustration.

"Oh, god...stick your tongue in my fucking cunt! Lick all that fucking pussy juice up, fuck my hot, tight little cunt, please, fucking God, I need it, I'll do anything, just fucking eat me!"

America responded, as was customary, with her tongue.

Lin squealed, hips jerking up with America's nails digging into her bare ass to encourage them. The Latina's other hand rubbed Lin's breast, her lips and tongue working between the soft, salty folds. Lin moaned, and America answered with a satisfied hum as the girl's taste filled her mouth.

"Has anyone ever told you you have a delicious fucking pussy?" America rumbled, and Lin's only answer was a gasp.

America pushed closer, parting the sopping outer lips to let her tongue explore the hot, pink flesh inside. Since her first 'massage' four years past, America had fucked dozens of girls, most of whom spent the whole time saying they'd 'never done anything like this before, I'm not gay, I swear' before coming explosively on her face, and in her expert opinion Lin was succulent. Every new crevice America's lips and tongue and teeth explored was met with a breathy moan and an arousing wriggle, one of Lin's hands anchored encouragingly to the back of her head while the other covered her own mouth to stop her from screaming.

"You're so sensitive," America murmured. "I bet I could make you come a dozen times without breaking a sweat." A quick swipe of the tongue reinforced her point. "But I think you only get to come once...your begging could use some work..."

With that, America closed her lips around Lin's clit and sucked, and the Asian Saint's body tensed, hand falling from her mouth to release a scream of pure ecstasy. America slid down, eagerly gulping up the flowing juice from Lin's burning-hot cunt. When she pulled back, chin soaked with the undeniable proof of Lin's orgasm, she looked up to find the girl's eyes squeezed shut, firm breasts heaving and glistening with sweat. When Lin's eyes fluttered open, America smirked.

"Dyke."

Lin grinned a feral grin, her fingers once again wrapping through America's boyish black hair. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that..."

As Lin jerked her up for a kiss, America smiled. Something told her she was going to like the Saints.


	4. Undercover

When she was nineteen, Skins Ortega also learned that liked to be watched.

She looked over at Sam, who looked back worriedly. The buxom dirty-blond stripper crossed her arms over her pastie-clad nipples, sparing a glance for the Latina's own. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

The genuine concern in Sam's voice made America feel off. She shook her head. "You're the one who doesn't like blood. What, are we just supposed to let the Vice Kings pimp out every little girl they want?"

Sam blushed, which America couldn't help thinking was an odd expression to see on someone who took her clothes off (and probably more) for a living. "No, of course not. You think I want Tanya Winters up my ass? That's not what I meant. If we're going to do this, we'll have to...play the part."

America couldn't help a sly smile as her hand trailed up the blonde's exposed ass cheek. "Funny, last weekend you didn't seem to mind...playing the part."

Sam rolled her eyes, but didn't break the touch. "We didn't have an audience. You don't exactly seem like the sleazebag's sex slave type. You gonna manage to not break the fingers off any guy who tries to cop a feel?"

"Well if you're right, that won't be a problem."

"Not with Reyes. He likes to watch. But if his goons get a little grabby first, you have to not start beating the shit out of them, or we're gonna have a lot of new holes for them to grope."

America sighed. Two 'Vice King' hos killing one of the Carnales' top dealers right under Tanya Winters' nose was exactly what the Saints needed. "I can deal."

Sam grinned. "Who knows, you might like it."

America scowled playfully. "Don't make me spank you."

The blonde giggled. "And Reyes might like that."

America huffed. "Well, I guess we'll see."

"He's back in one of the private rooms. Just let me do the talking and don't get me killed. Please. Or yourself."

America followed the blonde wordlessly through the brothel's back corridors until finally coming to a door with a heart-shaped plaque. Sam pushed it open to reveal six red-clad bodyguards, each of whom went for their guns when the door opened only to relax when they saw the girls. The short, hairy Colombian sitting on the dingy red couch didn't move. He just leered.

Sam smiled demurely, and America angled her eyes as close to the floor as she could without taking her eyes off of him. "Hello. Mister Reyes? Madam Winters thought you might like us."

Reyes grinned, not bothering to look at anything but the two pairs of barely-covered breasts crossing toward him. "Well, well. Who's this chica?"

"This is Elena, sir. She's one of Madam Winters' new...acquisitions from Puerto Rico."

Reyes grinned a grin that America admitted, had she indeed been a terrified sex slave fresh off the boat, she might have found comforting. "Por mucho que pagó por ti, chica, no basta."

The way he said it, she supposed calling her lifetime of sexual slavery a bargain was supposed to be a compliment. She just flicked her eyes up toward his for a moment in a gesture she hoped seemed both grateful and bashful.

"¿Eres virgen?"

America swallowed. "N...no, señor."

The grin just widened. He turned to Sam. "You both know what I want to see?"

"Yes, Mister Reyes, Jeanie told me and I told her. She seemed...intrigued."

"Good girl," he purred. "Then bailan. Dance for me."

The beat of some derivative Latin rhythm drowned out the echoing music from the club outside, and America followed Sam's lead as the stripper began to grind her hips, every other swish bringing their bare ass cheeks into contact. Reyes stared intently, and before long Sam turned the Latina toward her, breasts brushing together and hands running over each other's backs and thighs. When America peeled away Sam's pasties and leaned down to suckle a plump pink nipple with a hum of arousal, Reyes leaned forward.

America sucked in a breath as Sam's warm fingers peeled back her pasties, revealing her stiffening brown nipples to the muggy air. Sam tugged her up for a kiss, their hands massaging each other's breasts and the blonde's leg wrapped around hers, grinding their crotches together.

"Yes, bueno. Now the panties. Slowly..."

Sam and America took turns stripping away each other's g-strings, Sam raising America's to her nose with a hum.

Reyes groaned. "How does she smell?"

"So good," Sam growled. "They're soaking wet..." Sam let the scrap of cloth drop, leaning in for another kiss, America's hands kneading her ass cheeks, pulling them wide to reveal the rosebud between them.

"Lamele," Reyes rumbled. America's answer was a moan as she kneeled down, eager to comply even if it was for a druglord's pleasure.

She knew Sam's slender, sensitive pussy well, and the first swipe of her tongue made the stripper moan. America felt her own juices start to flow as she greedily lapped up Sam's, the heady scent making her hum in approval.

It wasn't until Sam rolled her down to the floor, turning to part the Latina's own dripping cunt lips with her fingers, that America remembered their audience. To her shock, the stares of Reyes and his bodyguards only made her moan louder when Sam's tongue parted her folds.

This was hardly the first time she and the nubile blonde stripper had been in this position, but from her place on the floor America only had to open her eyes to see Reyes and his goons leering. When she did, the added thrill spurred her to come, shivering, against Sam's lips.

Reyes leaned forward farther, eyes glowing. "Fueran," he growled. As one, the bodyguards stood and left, leaving the door ajar only slightly.

America hardly even noticed. Since her awakening, the muscular and charismatic Latina had fucked more that her share of strippers and masseuses, but Sam had always been one of her favorites. Her taste was exquisite, and the dilligent tongue working between America's thighs was proof that her lust for women had to do with more than money. When Sam came, America gulped down the salty cream greedily. Then as one they rose, sliding their still-soaked cunts up along Reyes' legs, his hard-on obvious between them.

"DId you like the show, Mister Reyes?"

Reyes just nodded, Sam teasingly rubbing her breasts against his face as America climbed across his back. "Good."

When America's toned arm settled across his throat, Reyes didn't even have time to gasp. When a dull snap sounded and his eyes bugged, Sam looked away.

As America disengaged herself from the dead drug dealer and pulled her panties back on, she looked over to find Sam holding a tube of lipstick in front of the room's mirror. The red letters read: Carnales not welcome.

America shot the blonde a silent thumbs-up.

When they slipped from the private room, winking at the guards as they ogled the two girls' bare breasts, America felt another shiver, both arousal and triumph.

As the guards re-entered the room and cried out in alarm, Sam and America broke into a run; by the time the bodyguards were on their trail, they were already in the Vice King-yellow car left parked out front for them. As bullets shuddered after them, Sam shrieked and dove into America's lap. America grinned at the sight; now that the Carnales were all but assured to retaliate against the Vice Kings, she and Sam needed to find somewhere to celebrate.


	5. Girl Talk

When she was twenty-four, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints, learned what it was like to not sleep with a woman.

As soon as the Saints had begun to clean up the mission that served as their new base of operations, America had singled out one of the abandoned storefronts in the old city below for a weight room. Not for the first time since the Saints had begun to recoup their losses against the Samedi, Ronin, and Brotherhood, America passed an afternoon stripped down to a tight tank and booty shorts, working out. And not for the first time, Shaundi stood in the doorway, silently watching.

America dropped her barbell with a grunt, fixing her practiced intimidating stare on Shaundi. As usual, Shaundi didn't even budge. "You see somethin' interesting in here?"

Shaundi grinned, that lazy, stoner bullshit grin that made America want to throw her off the roof. "New tats."

America looked down at the various black Saints wings and sigils that adorned her caramel skin. "A few, yeah. That it?"

"Just a curisoity. Don't think I've ever seen a woman with that much muscle." America scowled, and Shaundi threw up her hands. "Hey, it's a good thing. I like a girl with a little muscle tone."

America rolled her eyes because that was the only response to Shaundi's flirting that didn't risk getting her in even more trouble. "Yeah, well, nothing like five years in a coma to make you want to take care of yourself. Besides, you spend all your time at that fancy-ass gym. Thought fucking was supposed to be this ultimate workout."

Shaundi just chuckled at the tone. "Yeah, but I gotta deal with the side-effects of 24-hour munchies."

America rolled her eyes again, then, realizing she likely wouldn't be getting her next set in for a while, stood. Shaundi looked interested, and after all, if she couldn't talk about this kind of thing with her only female lieutenant, then she was pretty well fucked.

"So...we just took over that Image as Designed in Union Square."

Shaundi groaned. "Yeah, I know, Pierce was boring the shit out of me earlier with some kind of earnings report or whatever."

America smiled for a second. "So I was thinking...what with the discount and shit, I might...get a boobjob."

America winced in anticipation as Shaundi gave a long look up and down her barely-clad body. Then, a slow grin rose on the stoner's face. "Yeah, I could see that. I mean no offense, but between the muscles and the hair, you do like a little less than girly." America's hand reflexively went to her short, spiked hair, the tips frosted Saints purple. "But mix in some big tits, I bet you'd look hot as fuck."

America huffed. "I gotta say, I was expecting some kind of beauty is on the inside, don't give in to society bullshit."

At that, Shaundi laughed. "Hey, don't let the dreads and the hacky-sack fool you, I don't got shit to say about what anyone else does with their body. Well, I mean, except to suggest the stuff they can do to mine with it."

America chuckled, but when she turned back, Shaundi was looking pensive. "Can I ask you something without you, like, shooting me?"

"If you gotta ask that first? No."

The brunette shook her head. "Fair enough."

"Look, Shaundi, just tell me what's up."

The stoner paused a moment longer, then laughed. "Look, I was just curious. I mean, you're kind of famous."

"Yeah, well, taking over the Saints was never my idea. I'd let Johnny do it if he wasn't such a fuckin' psycho."

"Yeah, not what I meant. Back in high school I used to hear about this one chick in the Saints who was like the city's official lesbian experiment. Like gettin' eaten out by you was some big milestone, and, well..." She shrugged. America never thought she'd actually see Shaundi blush. "By the time I was ready to experiment, you were in a coma."

America blinked. "Wh...are you saying you want me to..."

"No! Well, I mean, not no, I...fuck!" Shaundi punched the doorframe, then swore again as she cradled her hand. America thought she should go help, but that probably would have just made things weirder. "Look, can we just forget the whole thing?"

America shook her head, turning back to her weights with a scoff. "Yeah. Fine."

As Shaundi stepped back from the door, America raised her head. "You could do better," she threw over her shoulder.

She didn't see Shaundi's longing smile. "Boss, no one could."

And just like that, the brunette was gone.

America dropped to the bench with a shake of her head. Time, she decided, for a few more sets.


	6. Performance Anxiety

When she was twenty-five, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints, discovered a new way to relieve tension.

Tera sat next to her in the passenger seat of the chemical truck, hands worrying the edge of her miniskirt as they climbed Mount Claflin. Eventually, America sighed. "What?"

The scientist glanced her way, trying to smile and failing horribly. "I'm just...really nervous."

"It'll be fine. I can kill anything Ultor throws at us."

"Not about that! About the interview! I just know I'm going to fuck it up somehow...my muscles are clenched so tight I feel like I'm going to snap in half."

America looked away from the winding road to the curvaceous scientist, not-unimpressive breasts heaving against her lacy top. America pursed her lips. "Okay. I have an idea that might help you relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and pull up your skirt."

Instead, Tera's eyes went wide. "What?"

"Hey, do you trust me or not?"

Tera bit her lip, then sighed. "Fine." She hiked up her skirt and slightly parted her thighs, revealing lacy pink panties. She forced herself to screw her eyes shut when America took one hand off the wheel, gently but firmly rubbing them. "Nn...are you sure this is a good idea..."

"Professor? Shut the fuck up and relax..."

America kept her eyes on the road, but her right hand kept rubbing until she felt Tera's thighs unclench. When they did, she slid higher, slipping under the biologist's panties to be rewarded with hot, moist skin. Tera jumped when the Latina's palm rubbed her clit on its way down, two fingers sliding up and down between the steadily moistening lips. When they curled inside, Tera let out a moan.

America had to fight down a groan herself; even with the angle, she was amazed at how tight the fit was. "Don't get a lot of down time, do we, Doc?"

Tera's only response was a whimper, then again when America's thumb teased along the outside of her lip. Even from the driver's seat, America could hear the sucking sound as her fingers drove in and out of Tera's dripping snatch. She began to curl them tighter, finding the soft, spongy flesh at the top of the scientist's channel, and Tera bucked, one hand grabbing at America's wrist while the other dug into the seat back. America kept up the pressure, reveling in the feel of the tight wet heat until Tera moaned, her body going rigid and a flood of moisture coating America's hand and staining the scientist's already-soaked panties.

America withdrew her hand gently, sucking the cream from her fingers with a satisfied hum. "Mm, I think I just made an important scientific discovery...you taste fucking delicious..."

Tera's only response was to loll her head to the side.

When they arrived, America had to prod Tera's side. "Hey! Time to go to work."

Tera stretched, then, as if suddenly feeling the dampness in her panties, shot straight out of her seat. "Right. Um...let's go."

"More relaxed now?"

Tera blushed, bashfully avoiding America's eyes. "Yesmuchbetterthankyou," she muttered.

America grinned. "Well, if this goes as bad as you think, when we're done I might have to relax you even more..."

Tera's blush deepened as she dropped from the truck. America exited with a smile. Something told her Ultor wouldn't be the only ones getting exposed today...


	7. Intimate Details

When she was twenty-six, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints, finally started to get the attention she deserved.

"I'm here today with a woman who has quickly become one of the most important names in Stilwater, even if few people know exactly what that name is. To the people of Stilwater, she need be known only...as the Boss of the Third Street Saints, the surprisingly popular homegrown street gang that has not only gained a stranglehold on organized crime in our fair city, but now appears poised to make its first inroads into the world of legitimate business as well.

"Hot on the heels of this morning's announcement of the unprecedented merger between the Saints and the Ultor Corporation, the newly-elected Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group is here to give us an intimate look at the woman who is, for all intents and purposes, the most powerful individual in Stilwater. Welcome."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"Now, I have to start with the question everyone is asking: with all the bad blood between the Saints and Ultor, this merger has come as a shock to Stilwater. Where did it come from?"

"Well, I mean, what...they started it, and Eric Gryphon's less of a cocksucker than Dane Vogel was? Oh fuck, can I say cocksucker?"

Jane Valderamma smiled. "We're on a ten-second delay."

America let out a breath. "Fuck. Okay."

As the three or four people from whom she'd half-assedly tried to get an honest job could attest, America Ortega didn't interview well. At all. Jane Valderamma, on the other hand, interviewed very well. And seeing as she was in certain respects an honorary Saint and hated that elitist bitch Anna as much as America did, the leader of the Saints came out of the interview smelling reasonably clean.

As the questions wore down, America shifted uncomfortably against the scratchy couch. Pierce and Shaundi had insisted she wear something 'intimidating but presentable' since she was going to be on TV, and her pushup bra was digging into her back.

"Now, before we go, we have some additional questions from our audience. Incidentally, these were collected from Saintsbook, the new social networking site created by the Saints-Ultor Meida Group and also announced this morning. In the five hours since it went online, Saintsbook has attracted over six million members, and every one of them seems to have something to ask you."

America fidgeted again. "Okay, go for it."

Jane looked down at the transcript. "Skullfuckr69 asks 'What do you bench?'"

"Three-forty."

Jane's eyes widened, and she swallowed. The muscles weren't obvious under her purple silk shirt, but they were definitely there. "This is from Brenda Tate: 'You're the most famous lesbian I know. How did you come out? P.S. Don't use my real name, my parents don't know I'm gay.'" Jane blinked, then blanched. "Oh."

America snorted and leaned in toward the camera. "Brenda? Fuck 'em. Whatever you do, you be a badass at it and recognize that no one has the right to say shit about who you fuck. And if you're hot, you know, give me a call."

Jane cleared her throat. "This question is from AdmiralTallywacker: 'Who the fuck do you think you are? My daughter went out and joined a gang because of you, you braindead cunt. People like you are raping and murdering our society by telling our children it's cool to grow up into gun-toting, crack-smoking, sex-trading sociopaths instead of going to college and doing something with their lives. How do you sleep at night?"

America gave the camera a predatory grin. "Naked. On silk sheets. Under a pile of writhing strippers. And your daughter. And Brenda? Guys like that? Tell them to go fuck themselves."

"All right then. Our final question is from TheOneTrueDesdemona: 'Looking back, did you ever think the Saints would become what they are today? What do you think the Saints mean to the world?'"

America blinked. Then she dropped back into her seat. "Fuck. I don't know. I mean you gotta understand, we didn't plan this shit. We started out just tryin' to keep the Vice Kings off the Row and things just...got bigger and bigger. We weren't thinkin' about our...our fuckin' mark on the world or anything." She let out a breath.

"You know what, no, I got an answer. The Saints mean that if nothing else, there's one way for a dyke from the barrio to make good, even if she's gotta fight for it."

Jane just sat there, blinking. Then she nodded. "A very powerful, very intimate look at the Boss of the Third Street Saints. This is Jane Valderamma wishing our guest, and all our viewers, the best of luck."

When the cameras cut, America dropped back against the couch with a groan. "Fuck."

Jane smiled. "I thought you handled yourself very well." As the crew cleared out of the interview room, the reporter shot her a confidential glance. "And you know...there is more than one way for a dyke from the barrio to make it."

America met her eyes knowingly. "Yeah. She can learn to talk like a white girl and do all her hooking up in lesbian dive bars so no one finds out who she really is. Juanita."

Jane's smiled faltered just a little. "Well, as you've proven, the world's not really so simple, is it? Elena."

A grin slowly spread across America's pursed lips. "I still remember when I was sixteen, being in your dad's store and all of a sudden I saw you behind the counter, staring at some girl's ass. And I just went 'no fucking way, Juanita Valderamma, it can't be, that girl's got a stick up her ass the size of Mount Claflin...'"

America leaned in, her hands landing on Jane's thighs. "And when I got you alone right before you closed the shop, you remember what I said?"

Jane was blushing, but a fond smile was on her lips. "You said...'You like what you see, Juanita?'"

America hummed as her hands slid farther up Jane's legs, pushing her skirt up with them. "And remind me, what did you say?"

Jane swallowed. "Elena, anyone could walk through that door."

America grinned. "It locks."

Jane bit her lip. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, walked to the door, and flipped the lock.

When she turned around, it was to feel the taller woman's buxom, muscular body pressing her against the door, hands already slipping under her blazer. "Now let's see...we got a perfectly nice couch, but as I recall...you like to do it standing up..."

Jane swallowed. "And as I recall...you're not big on foreplay."

"Why would I need foreplay when I know your panties are already soaked through?"

Jane moaned as America proved her point, rubbing her fingers through the slick, warm, wet patch quickly spreading across the white cotton panties no longer concealed by her hiked-up skirt.

"Jesus, I forgot how wet you get..."

America's lips were on Jane's throat, and the reporter moaned, her own hands pulling open her blouse and unhooking her bra just in time for America to kiss her way down to heaving, conical breasts with puffy brown nipples. When the gang leader sucked an entire breast into her mouth, Jane gasped, lacing her fingers through America's short, spiky hair.

"What'd you beg me that first time?" America growled.

Jane sucked in a shuddering breath. "I...I need your tongue inside me..."

America grinned a feral grin as she licked her way down Jane's flat stomach, taking a deep, appreciative sniff of her soaked panties before yanking them down around her knees.

"You know you were the first older woman I ever made come?"

She pressed her mouth closer. And that signaled the end of conversation.

Jane had to bite down on her hand to keep from screaming as America licked and sucked and moaned, pussy juice streaming down her chin. Her hands were kneading Jane's ass, pulling apart the cheeks to stretch the tender pucker between them. Jane's first orgasm made her rigid, America eagerly sucking down the bittersweet splash that filled her mouth. Then she moved up to suck hard on the reporter's clit.

Her second orgasm came in a matter of seconds. When it was over and America's tongue wriggled deep inside her to lap up every drop of cream, her legs collapsed under her.

As America leaned in, Jane's hand slipped inside her shirt, under the cup of her bra to knead a firm, heavy breast.

"I forgot how good you were at that..."

America grinned. "No you didn't."

Jane bit her lip. "No. I didn't."

America claimed her lips roughly, and Jane moaned as the taste of her own cum hit her mouth.

"Next time I do an interview," America growled, "I'm bringing a strap-on."


	8. Preparedness

When she was thirty, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints and Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group, decided that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Steelport, in the end, wasn't that different from Stilwater. Oh, sure, it was poorer and dirtier and didn't have a college or a decent sports franchise or a strip club half as nice as Tee'N'Ay, but there was still sleaze, and violence, and the opportunity to combine the two in new and interesting ways.

And, of course, there was still the guarantee that one of her so-called friends would interrupt her right when she was trying to do so.

America slid the phone from the pocket of her skin-tight Planet Saints jeans, leaning the bloodied baseball bat on her shoulder. "Yeah, Kinzie, what do you want?"

"Um...could you...ah...come by my p...place..." Kinzie sounded distracted, and there was a buzzing sound in the background, but neither of those was all that strange when talking to the manic computer genius.

America sighed as she looked down at the cringing pimp lying in the fetal position at her feet. "Look, Kinzie, I'm kinda in the middle of something. Can't you get someone else?"

"Well...ah...the thing is, I, um...really...ah...need help from another...g...girl...and I don't want Vi...i...iola to see me...like this, and Shaundi would...oh...wouljust tell d me to go...go f-fuck my...myself, which...ah...ironically..."

"Yeah, all right, fine. I can be there in five minutes."

America looked down at the pimp, who had begun to cry. "Well, looks to me like you've learned your lesson. Trouble is, I'm not a very good judge of character. So I'm gonna leave it up to Champagne here." She tossed the bat to the fat black hooker standing at the front of the watching crowd, her black eye evidence of the man's latest handiwork. "Champagne, you think you can tell when he's really sorry?"

The woman just grinned. As America left the abandoned warehouse to the sound of wood on bone and the pimp's pleading screams, she grinned.

The drive to Kinzie's wasn't long, and she entered the other, only slightly less abandoned warehouse with her Kobra in hand, just to be safe. "Kinzie?"

"Ah! Up...up...stairs!"

The buzzing was louder here, and only grew more so as she climbed the stairs and followed it to what could charitably be called Kinzie's bedroom. When she turned the corner, pistol at the ready, she blinked. "What. The fuck. Is that?"

Kinzie, from her position spread-eagled and naked suspended from the device, just shook her head. "Just...turn it...ah...ah...off!"

America holstered her gun, strolling forward casually and taking the chance to get a good look at the body the redhead usually kept swaddled in hoodies and blends. She had bigger tits than America had imagined, though unlike Viola's, Shaundi's, or her own, they appeared to be natural. The neatly trimmed thatch below her taut stomach meant she was definitely a natural redhead.

More interesting than that, however, was the penetrator pumping between her thighs. The massive dildo had stretched Kinzie wider than America thought could possibly be comfortable, and the machine kept it steadily pumping as the redhead thrashed.

"You do this often?" America couldn't help but grin even as tears began to build in the corners of Kinzie's eyes.

"Please...ah...just...oh...turn it...oooooffffff!" The redhead's hips bucked, and America couldn't help but notice that the massive purple dildo was suddenly more lubricated than before.

"Are you sure? That sounded like a good one."

"Fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you turn it ooooff!"

America shrugged and flipped the switch. Immediately Kinzie arched up, the collapsed. The Latina just watched the appetizing body as it regained its equilibrium. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you swear. It's kind of hot. Course, the fact that you're tied down, naked, and coming your brains out might have something to do with it too."

Kinzie gasped. "I...I hate you!"

"No you don't. You build this thing yourself?"

The redhead huffed, her pride obviously more hurt than her pussy. "Of course I did! You think you can just buy something like this online?"

"You can buy anything online."

Kinzie snorted. "Yeah. Used."

America couldn't help drawing a hand up Kinzie's bare leg, still suspended by the padded cuff. "Speaking of used..."

"The remote broke. I couldn't turn it off. You don't even want to know what I had to do to reach my phone."

"Kinzie, I don't even want to know what you're doing with a dildo the size of a baseball bat hooked up to this thing."

The redhead blushed as the Latina unsnapped her feet from the cuffs and she gingerly pulled herself free, her swollen pussy lips contracting with a wet pop. "It's not like I started with it. I worked my way up. You know, just in case..."

She looked away, hiding her face but not her nudity, and America was suddenly intrigued. "In case what?"

Kinzie cleared her throat. "Well, you know how Oleg's...bigger than average. Well...that applies to his...extremities."

"Yeah, I noticed. When we met, his...extremities were pretty much at eye-level," America quipped. Then, the meaning of Kinzie's words hit home.

"It's just...Oleg and I have been spending a lot of time together. And we haven't talked about...but it's getting to the point where I think we might start talking about it, and I don't want him to worry about hurting me, or use it as an excuse, or...are you going to tell everyone?"d

"Are you going to tell everyone my real name?"

Kinzie grinned. "Not a chance...Ms. Ortega."

America just shook her head. "Well...good luck, I guess. Oh, and next time you fire that thing up, invite me over first in case anything goes wrong." As soon as she left the room, she popped her head back through the doorway. "And so I can watch."

Kinzie just rolled her eyes. "Thank you. Boss."

America grinned. "Any time, Ms. Kensington."


	9. Membership Perks

When she was thirty, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints and Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group, also learned that everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.

Given the number of times she'd been fucked over—by Alderman Hughes, by Julius, by Dex, by Dane Vogel, by Josh I-Am-The-Fucking-Antichrist-And-Someone-Needs-To-Wire-My-Jaw-Shut Birk—that had been a difficult point for America to concede. Had Viola joined the Saints five years earlier, Shaundi probably would have been the one to encourage America to give her a chance. Instead, the brunette was one of the loudest voices against.

Nonetheless, America figured they were probably stuck working together, which meant that as far as she was concerned, Viola needed to undergo the same stringent interview process as all her lieutenants.

"God, I'm sooo drunk..." Nonetheless, Viola threw back the shot with abandon. If America had still been sober enough to keep track, she'd have known it was the former Morningstar leader's sixth. But she wasn't, so she lolled her head back with a snort of laughter.

"Are you...are you drunk enough t'do body slots? Shops. Stops. Fuck."

Viola giggled. It was a sound America had never heard before. "Don' tempt me. I'm a..." She leaned across the table, beckoning her new employer closer. "I'm a real slutty drunk!" she whispered.

"Pffft!" America tossed an empty shot glass in Viola's general direction. "Bitch, please! Back in Stilwater, I once started drinkin' at a bar in Chinatown and I woke up in an old fighter plane in a museum with the weathergirl from Channel 13..." America didn't notice Viola squirming at that. "God, she had the mos' amazin' tits, and she squirted..."

America's head rolled back around to find Viola's cheeks redder than they should have been just from the booze. America blinked through the fog. "You're not gonna throw up, are ya?"

And just like that, Viola began to blubber. "Oh, god! I'm so...I'm so fucking...pathetic..."

"Wha's...what?"

Viola leaned forward again. "Can I...can I tell you a secret?" America just raised her eyebrows, which Viola apparently took as a yes. "I...I've never hadda...y'know." America just blinked, and Viola's blush deepened as she gritted her teeth. "An...orgasm," she whispered.

And suddenly, America was on her feet. "What? Tha's...tha's bullshlit! I mean fuckin' look atchoo, you should have every orgasm ever!"

"I can't! I've been with...lotsa guys, and I never..."

"Pffft! Course not with guys! You think a guy ever gave a girl a orgasm in th' history o' the...fuckin' universe? You wanna come, you need a woman! I mean fuck, didn't you an' Kiko do th' fuckin' twin thing?"

"Well, it was always so easy t' make her come, but when she tried on..." Viola gasped, hands rushing up to cover her mouth and cheeks going redder. America just nodded solemnly.

"Okay, tha's it! Lie back, take off yer panties, and open wide!" America puffed out her chest proudly. "I'm the...fuckin'...chica who's real good at makin' girls come."

Even as she blushed, Viola hesitantly began to work her leggings and her black lace panties down, leaning back on the penthouse loveseat and hiking up her skirt.

America dropped to her knees, then stopped to examine the sight before her, blinking sedately but suddenly feeling much more sober. "Wow. Fuck, you...you gotta fuckin' beautiful little cunt..."

Viola bit her bottom lip. "Don' make funna me..."

America nodded solemnly. "Hokay." Instead, she dove down, tongue splitting the soft, waxed pink lips to lick the flesh inside. Viola gasped, fingernails digging into the upholstery.

America tasted moisture, and growled. "Your sister ever eat your pussy, chica?" Viola just mewled and nodded frantically. "Bitch couldn't make you come?"

"Phil...Phillipe always wanted t' watch...Kiki got off...ah...on it but I couldn...oh, fuck..."

"Look a' tha' pretty little clit..." America took the bud between her lips, curling a finger from each hand into Viola's quim, spreading the lips and rolling in circles to ferret out the most sensitive spots. Even drunk, America Ortega was nothing if not an expert at ruining girls for men.

Viola's hips bucked, pushing America's mouth harder against her clit. When the Latina switched to long, increasingly fast licks around the outside of the little bud, Viola moaned, the moisture on her chin and her fingers telling America exactly what she wanted to hear. She added two more fingers, stretching and writhing as Viola did the same above her, nonsense and curses and begging fluttering from the white girl's pouty lips. When America's lips returned to her clit, sucking hard as her fingers plunged deep, Viola screamed.

America slid her face down, eagerly gulping down the undeniable proof of Viola's first orgasm that was more intoxicating than anything they'd been drinking that night. The Latina slowed, cleaning the gleaming lips and thighs with her tongue, then sliding slowly up Viola's body as she savored the cream she sucked from her fingers.

Viola blinked, breath coming in gasps and spurts. "Wazzat...did I come?"

America shrugged. "I don' know, I couldn' tell. Might haffta try again seven 'r eight more times."

Viola giggled, tears running freely down her face. "When I'm sober, I'm gonna give you a kiss..."

America leaned over her with a feral grin. "When you're sober, you're gonna show me what your sister taught you about eatin' pussy..."


	10. Fun Time

When she was thirty-one, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Streets Saints, Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group, and Grand Champion of Genkibowl VII, got to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Winning that last title had been one thing, a procession of flamethrowers, man-eating sharks, giant balls of yarn, and pandas with chainsaws. But that marathon was nothing compared to the six hours they'd spent so far taking promotional photos.

The only bright spot was that they weren't just her and the trophy, or her and Professor Genki, but mostly her with the Genki Girls. After all, if there was one thing that could take the sting out of America having to do promo work, it was doing it with three absurdly hot girls in animal ears and bikinis.

Not only that, but the girls seemed to be getting more and more friendly as the shoot went on. Where they'd once started out arrayed loosely around her, framing the winner and her trophy, in the time since they'd pressed closer, fur-suited hands running over the skin exposed by her own Saints-purple Genki-branded bikini in which she'd fought through most of the challenges. Just as the blonde Sexy Kitten's breasts began to rub against her arm and the redheaded Angry Tiger's hand slid down the back of her g-string, the photographer began to swear.

"Goddamn motherfucking cocksucking cheap fucking cunt-ass flash! Fuck! I'll be back," he spat, simply storming out of the studio and slamming the door. In the ensuing silence, America cleared her throat.

"So, uh...always kinda wondered. You ladies speak English?"

The goth Sad Panda's response was merely to reach behind America's back, undoing her bikini top and letting her implanted breasts spring free.

"Hey, I thought..." America's words turned into a hum as the dark-haired Genki Girl's lips fastened around her nipple. Sexy Kitten wordlessly worked her own bikini top free before eagerly leaning down to suckle on the other, while Angry Tiger's lips began to nip at the exposed flesh of America's ass. As the three writhed over her, gradually stripping her and each other, America just grinned.

"Okay."

Between watching their tantalizing skin appear inch by inch and the way they rubbed it over her, America wasn't paying enough attention to say how she ended up on her back. When Sexy Kitten's engorged pink pussy lips descended on her mouth, she stopped caring.

The blonde let out a high-pitched squeak, then another as Sad Panda slid forward, her thighs locking around the back of America's head, the warmth of her snatch supporting the Latina as she ate. Her brief curiosity about Angry Tiger's location was assuaged when a fur-gloved hand raised her thigh and what was unmistakably a tender cunt began to grind against hers. America rolled her hips with a groan, sank her tongue between the sweet pussy lips on offer, and grabbed handfuls of Sexy Kitten's firm ass as she watched her and Sad Panda above her, kissing coyly and playing with each other's breasts.

Some time after Sexy Kitten came in her ravenous mouth, they switched positions, Sad Panda crawling across America's body to lick at the moisture created where she and Angry Tiger rubbed together, Sexy Kitten's tongue coming down to join America's in doing the same favor to the Gothic Genki Girl. America's own orgasm barely registered as Sad Panda mewled hers pathetically above her.

The girls switched position again, Angry Tiger sliding up to let America suck her huge, brown nipples, hands running over the Saint's muscular stomach while Sexy Kitten and Sad Panda ran their soft breasts and hard nipples over everything else. When Angry Tiger and Sad Panda's lips met hers in a three-way kiss and three of Sexy Kitten's fingers pushed inside her, America groaned; it wasn't long before she came again, only to find the blonde's tongue dutifully lapping up the cum that flowed from between her thighs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Four heads snapped up, breath heavy from swollen lips, as the photographer glared at them. "You stupid fucking whores! You were supposed to fucking wait for me, goddammit, you stupid fucking cunts! Now you're gonna have to start all over again! Fuck!"

As America looked around at the chastised expressions of her co-models, she couldn't help a grin. Yes, they were probably going to have to spend another six hours on a shoot that no one had told her was hardcore porn. But somehow, she found that she didn't mind at all.


	11. Method Acting

When she was thirty-one, America Ortega, Boss of the Third-Street Saints, Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group, and star of the upcoming international blockbuster Gangstas in Space, also learned the lengths an artist must suffer for her art.

She was in a dressing room Andy Zhen had insisted was the best in the entire fucking world, running her lines. In her case, that meant mouthing them once, then muttering 'There's no fuckin' way I can remember that shit...'. She was in the middle of saying that about some techno-babble bullshit about alien transmitters when the door slammed open and her co-star stormed in, wearing purple full-body makeup, a stainless-steel corset, and a scowl.

"Okay, we gotta talk about this!"

America smiled wryly. "Come on in, Jenny."

The young actress blushed, as near as America could tell under all that makeup, and gently shut the door behind her. "Okay, sorry. But...we have a major problem with tomorrow."

America tossed her sides to the makeup table with a groan. "Tell me about it. The fuck am I supposed to fly a spaceship and remember all these fucking lines?"

Jenny blinked. "What? No. Do you really not know?" America just stared blankly. "DId you not get the new script?" America just shrugged. "Oh my god. Here."

As America opened the script Jenny tossed into her lap, the younger girl began to pace. "Zhen added a new scene right before the final battle. It's...the night before, you know, when we're holed up in the statue's head and I'm telling you about my culture and whatever?"

America nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I remember that scene..."

"Yeah, well, now it ends a little differently. It's..." Jenny's lips pursed nervously. "...a love scene."

America blinked, then slowly grinned. "What's the matter, you never kissed another girl for the camera? Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Even with the makeup, Jenny blanched. "Kissing's not the problem! Read it!"

America sighed and flipped through the new material. Not long after Kwilanna offered to show her brave rescuer 'the gift of her people,' America's eyebrows rose. "Uh...hey. I don't watch a shitload of movies, but are they usually so...detailed?"

Jenny slammed her back against the wall. "And there's the problem! See, I heard the producers talking, and between that one scene with the tank and Zhen's love of the c-word, they're not going to be able to get an R rating after all. So instead of toning it down, they're going for the NC-17, which means more blood, more dismemberment, and that the sex scene's gonna be...detailed."

America blinked in confusion. "Wait. They want you and me...to fuck, actualy fuck...on camera? They're gonna put that in the movie?" America snorted. "Fuck, Hollywood really is a bunch of sickos."

Jenny spun on her co-star. "Seriously? That's it? How can you not be killing everyone right now?"

America's smile faded, and she blushed. "Uh, Jenny...don't take this the wrong way, but...it ain't like this'd be the first time I fucked a girl in front of an audience." Jenny blushed, presumably. "You gonna walk over this?"

"This is gonna be the biggest movie in history. I need this part. I just...fucking Zhen! This is exactly the kind of thing he'd pull."

"Look, I could talk to Zhen. Tell him to cut the scene."

"Oh, so he can blame me anyway and fire me? Or even better, switch it for a scene where Kwilanna, like, falls into the mothership's waste processing vats? With actual shit for 'exaggerealism'?"

"Well then what the fuck do you want me to do here, Jenny?"

"I don't know! I just...I thought I was getting such a big break, you know? Then the director ends up hating me despite not being able to remember my name. My boyfriend leaves me for two of my understudies. And now, I have to do hardcore lesbian porn or lose my job." The young actress raked a hand through her dyed hair. "I just...I don't know how I'm going to get through this scene! I mean, no offense, I know you're...into that, but I'm not! And even if I was, having all those people watching me, having fucking Zhen screaming about how my orgasm wasn't 'believable,' I just can't..."

America pulled Jenny away from the wall before the actress threatened to make a dent with the back of her head. "Hey, hey, it's cool. You know what I think?" She cleared her throat. "I think we oughta rehearse."

Jenny's eyes went wide. "Wh...what?"

"Well, I figure...the more used to it you are, the less nervous you'll be, you know?"

"You don't mean...you actually want us to just...have sex? Right now?"

"In character. Completely professional." Jenny snorted. "Look, we're gonna do it anyway. Isn't it better you get the jitters worked out now? I mean, if you're gonna go through with this, then...you gotta just go for it."

Jenny swallowed. "I've never...done anything with a girl before."

America grinned as she led her to the shabby couch in the corner of the room. "Just think...this is the last time you'll ever have to say that."

Jenny swallowed, eyes cutting to the script her co-star had pressed into her hand. "I...I realize I never properly thanked you for rescuing me."

America attempted to shrug modestly and failed. "Think nothing of it, Prrrrrincess..."

"No. I must think something of it. You are the greatest warrior I have ever known, and you must be honored. Among my people...there is a gift we give to those we truly treasure. I have never known anyone to whom I was so grateful that I ever considered giving it..."

"What kind of...treasure?"

Jenny took a deep breath, then froze. America's eyebrow rose. "Uh, Jenny?"

"I'm sorry. Right. I'll just...I can do it. Just give me my cue again."

America leaned closer as they sat together on the couch. "What kind...of treasure?"

Jenny took another deep breath. Just when the Latina was about to ask again, Jenny leaned in...

...and gave her a sisterly peck on the lips that lasted all of half a second before retreating to the other end of the couch. America blinked. "Wow. That was hot."

Jenny winced. "I know, I'm sorry..."

"No, really. That was definitely..." She glanced down at the script. "...'long and passionately, like she's been wanting to do it since they met.'"

"God, I'm sorry, okay? I've never done this before!"

America sighed. "Look, would it help if I got it started?"

Jenny pursed her lips nervously. "Yes definitely thank you."

America shook her head, but leaned forward, purple dressing gown spilling open as she crawled across the narrow cushion toward Jenny who, despite having her eyes focused squarely on the first glimpse of America's brown areolas revealed by the robe, was currently trying to merge with the arm of the couch. As the young actress ran out of room, her co-star smiled.

"Have you ever kissed a boy, Jenny?"

At this distance it was obvious when Jenny blushed, even through the makeup. "Yes of course I've kissed a boy!"

"Well it works pretty much the same way."

Jenny let out a nervous chuckle. America took advantage of the momentary opening of her mouth to surge forward.

Jenny squeaked in shock, and America felt her body go rigid, but the Latina held the kiss, massaging Jenny's lips gently with hers. Once Jenny finally started the relax into the kiss, America pulled back. "Now, do you think you can do that," she purred, "or do I have to show it to you again?"

Jenny swallowed. "Well, I, um...maybe you could show it to me...one more time?"

America grinned and leaned in again. This time, Jenny let out a sigh of pleasure when their lips touched, and another that was practically a moan when America's tongue pushed between her lips. America cupped Jenny's cheek gently, and in return her co-star threaded both hands through her short, black-and-purple hair. Jenny's lips began to move against America's, then sucked gently on her wriggling tongue, then less gently. America let out a moan of approval.

"Now...shall we take it from the top?" America growled. Jenny just nodded dazedly.

America leaned back, heavy breasts slipping back into her dressing gown, a motion Jenny's eyes couldn't help following. She swallowed.

"I realize I never properly thanked you for rescuing me."

"Think nothing of it, Prrrincess..."

"No, I must think something of it! You...you are the greatest warrior I have ever known, and you must be honored. Among my people there is a gift we give to those we truly treasure. I have never known anyone to whom I was so...so grateful that I ever considered giving it..."

"What...kind of treasure?"

Jenny dove forward, lips mashing against America's and tongue pushing into her mouth. Just like before, her hands settled in America's hair, but this time one of her co-star's settled on the back of her neck, the other reaching down to grab the flesh of her thigh. Jenny moaned, and America pulled back with a smirk.

"My people...give that same gift..."

Jenny swallowed, hands sliding down the outside of America's dressing gown seemingly of their own free will. "And have you...ever received it before?"

"Never from someone...as beautiful as you, Prrrrincess..."

"I would...I would never have dreamed that our two species could have anything in common," Jenny breathed, then gasped as she seemed to notice her own hands cupping America's tits for the first time.

America let her dressing gown fall open, revealing large, firm breasts with erect brown nipples, a muscular body covered in a dozen tattoos, and the black-and-purple fleur de lis shaved above her pussy. Jenny could only stare, helpless as America crawled closer, forcing the young actress to spread her legs to make room. "We're more alike than you think...Prrrincess..."

America's hands slid down Jenny's heaving thighs, and the young actress bucked when they found the vinyl covering her crotch. With a groan, she pushed forward, taking her co-star's lips again. America grinned. "Oh, what am I thinking? I'm a horrible actress...script says you're supposed to be taking charge..."

And just like that, Jenny did. Her hands grabbed America's shoulders and shoved her back, the Latina barely bouncing against the cushions before her costar was tearing the dressing gown off, lips speeding to her big, brown nipple like a hot-seeking missile. America laughed as Jenny started to suckle, then moaned as she started to do it much harder.

"Oh, you like tits, huh Princess?"

Jenny moaned. "That's not in the script..."

America grinned wickedly. "Improv, sweetie."

"Well, then...the script doesn't say I'm supposed to do this, either..."

Jenny's fingers found her co-star's fat brown nipples, pinching hard and pulling up, lifting her huge breasts skyward before letting them bounce back down to her chest. America laughed, then moaned when the brunette's pinching resumed.

"I'm gonna make you a good little cuntlicker," America growled. "That's what you want, isn't it bitch?"

Jenny flushed, but nodded feverishly, hand already moving down to America's bare snatch, the fat brown lips beading with arousal.

"Stick your tongue out. Lick right down the middle." America grunted as Jenny gingerly stuck out her tongue. "Deeper. Fuck me with it!"

She moaned as Jenny's tongue pushed deeper, the actress' nose brushing her clit.

"Yeah, that's right...fuck..." Her hand wrapped around the base of Jenny's ponytail. "Then, once you've got a girl nice and wet...you move up and wrap your lips around her clit..."

Jenny did without hesitation, and began sucking gently without prompting. America groaned. "Yeah, that's it. Use your tongue...just like you're sucking a guy's cock...I know you know how to suck a guy's cock, don't you?"

Jenny nodded, and the added motion just made it feel better. Of course, it still wasn't anywhere near making America come.

"Lean back."

Jenny blinked as she emerged from her work, licking at the surprising flavor on her lips even as she sat back. Then America's purple fingernails dug into the crotch of her costume. With a snap, the vinyl tore away to reveal a brown landing strip and the bright pink lips of her cunt.

Jenny only blushed for as long as it took America to hook a thigh over hers. When their pussies touched, she let out a shocked moan. It rose into a scream as America began to thrust against her.

"That's right, take it! You thought only a guy could really fuck you, huh, Princess? What do you think now?"

Jenny's fingernails were digging into the upholstery, her hips wantonly thrusting against America's. "Oh God yes! Harder! I'm gonna..."

She let out a wail as a torrent of moisture dripped down their thrusting thighs. When America slowed her motions, the shaking young actress rolled on top of her, her tongue immediately seeking out the Latina's.

"I...I've never felt anything like that in my life..."

"Well you're about to feel it a couple more times, Princess..."

"Cut!" Zhen collapsed back into his director's chair, legs very conspicuously crossed. "Well, that was...I mean holy shit! Talk about emotion! I mean even Jasmine there looked good. You nailed it! First take! Fuck!"

Jenny and America shared a grin. "Actually...I think we could use a safety take." America grabbed the back of Jenny's head as the actress started kissing her way back down the Latina's chest. "Why don't we do it six or seven more times?"


	12. The Old Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter reuses certain dialogue from my earlier Saints Row story "Girls' Night In." What can I say, it was a well-observed, necessary character beat for Shaundi and I'm a dreadful, lazy writer.

When she was thirty-two, America Elena Ortega, Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group and the most powerful woman in the United States, learned that some things never get easier.

It was just after four in the morning, and the Saints' Steelport penthouse was finally quiet. Strippers and Saints were passed out on every available surface, and only America was left standing on the balcony, looking out over the city.

Her city.

"Boss?"

She spun on her heel, hand automatically going for the Kobra tucked into the back of her pants, to find Shaundi with her hands raised.

"Easy."

As Shaundi settled next to her agaisnt the railing, America's shoulders slumped. "Can't sleep?"

"You either?"

America chuckled. "I never sleep anymore. It's like I'm just waiting for the next big fucking disaster to fall out of the sky."

"I know the feeling."

America glanced sidelong at Shaundi, staring out at the city in profile, face still and calm for the first time in forever.

"Can I ask you something without you shooting me?"

The brunette chuckled. "If you have to ask that? No."

America frowned. "Were you in love with Gat?"

"What?" Shaundi blinked, then turned to face her. "Why would you say that?"

"I just thought it might explain what the fuck happened to you."

Shaundi's eyes narrowed. Then they went hard, and she shoved herself back from the railing. "Oh no, you know what? Fuck you! Fuck you, how dare you!"

"There! Right there! You didn't used to be angry at everything all the time, Shaundi."

"Don't you dare! I have been trying so hard to just survive all this shit, and that's not good enough for you? Fuck you!"

Shaundi swung wide, and America caught her fist long before it made contact, surprised by the force behind it. Her other hand grabbed hold of the brunette's shoulder, and Shaundi shrieked as she was slammed into the wall behind them.

"You gonna kick my ass?" America hissed. "You gonna fuck up everyone who's trying to help you?"

Shaundi shrieked as she pushed back with all her might. All her might was nothing compared to America, but the shock of the blow still slammed the Latina back against the railing.

"I don't need your help! I am so fucking sick of needing your help!" Shaundi screamed. When her breathing settled down again, America could tell she was crying.

The brunette shook her head. "I am so fucking sick of being rescued all the time! Johnny's dead..." she hiccuped, "Johnny's dead because I couldn't pull my fucking weight."

America's hands were white around the railing. "You know that's not true."

"The fuck it's not."

"Johnny's dead for the same reason Carlos is dead," America snapped. "Because I can't just stop and think for five stupid fucking minutes because I always gotta have the biggest dick in the room."

Shaundi blinked. "Boss..."

"Johnny's dead because having people think I'm a badass is more important than the people who trust me."

Shaundi's tears were still hanging on her cheeks, arms crossed tight over her halter top, pushing up her fake tits. America scoffed to herself; even Shaundi, the realest of them all, was a fake now.

"I used to be a stupid, helpless little girl." Shaundi sighed bitterly, eyes locked on the concrete. "When I met you, I was a fucked-up stoner dropout who couldn't hold a gun or even do her own laundry. Then all of a sudden...we won. We went corporate, and you and Johnny didn't have any idea what you were doing, and Pierce was as much help as he ever is, and I just...learned about all this stuff I could do."

America's grip on the railing loosened. She took a step forward.

"Then we get snatched up here, and Johnny...and I realized that all of that was for shit and I was still a stupid, helpless little girl. And I am not ever going to feel like that again."

America approached slowly as Shaundi struggled to bring her breathing under control, finally dropping against the wall next to her. "I miss that stupid, helpless little girl sometimes."

"No you don't," she snapped.

"Yes, I do." America sighed. "I miss how you made everything look so easy. I miss how you...made me think, just once in a while, that life didn't suck as much as I knew it did."

Shaundi didn't say anything, so America shrugged, the motion bringing their shoulders into contact. "But now it's like...if even you know how much life sucks, then what's the point?"

"So what, you like me helpless?"

America could feel Shaundi tense against her. She sighed.

"Yeah. Fine, I do." The brunette scoffed, but didn't speak. America's eyes fell on the same patch of floor as the brunette's. "I'm not a good person, Shaundi. In fact you might not have noticed, but I'm kind of a sociopathic asshole." Shaundi snorted. "So yeah, maybe it was nice to be able to think that even as bad as I was, I could still take care of someone."

America broke the contact, heading back to the railing and the city below them. "I don't think you always need to be rescued, Shaundi. But...I do like rescuing you."

Shaundi didn't say anything, but America could hear her push off from the wall. After a while, she figured the brunette had gone back inside. That was when Shaundi's hand landed atop hers.

"I like being rescued by you," Shaundi murmured. Her lips were flush against America's ear, and suddenly the Latina could feel the lithe body pressed against her own. She rolled her hand to squeeze Shaundi's and pressed back against her stunted embrace.

Then just like that, she was gone. And America Ortega was alone with the city once again.


	13. Humanity

When she was thirty-seven, America Ortega, last president of the United States and leader of whatever came next, didn't know what to do.

That hadn't been too rare an occurrence over the last few years, of course; she could barely even remember how it had all happened beyond the blur of killing Cyrus and letting Pierce talk her into playing the hero. Sure, every kid in the barrio had some idealistic white teacher who told them they could grow up to be president, but America could barely handle being a fucking gang leader. Thankfully, she'd had Shaundi and Kinzie and Pierce and Ben and Keith to keep her from making too big an ass of herself, but even then she couldn't help but feel like everyone was just waiting for her to fuck up.

And then, she did.

They'd lost everything. In one horrible moment, just when it looked like things were going their way, they'd lost everything in an explosion of light and heat and everything they'd ever known. Zinyak and his empire had fallen out of the sky and given her an ultimatum, and she'd called his bluff, and it hadn't been a bluff and she and everyone who depended on her lost everything, all because of her. It seemed her life had a lot of moments like that.

America shook her head to clear it and took another shot at the punching bag they'd installed on the alien battleship that would be their home for the foreseeable future. Yeah, that was another thing she was having trouble wrapping her head around.

Keith was on the bridge making sure their hiding place in the bowels of Zinyak's city-sized flagship wasn't discovered, which checked off the only thing onboard she was actually capable of doing. Well, other than wallowing in self-pity about the fact that the entire human race was extinct and it was all her fault.

She shook her head again as a high-pitched grunt caught her attention. She peeked around the corner to find a headless Kinzie sticking out of a bank of wires, ridiculous space suit unzipped to the waist and her hoodie riding up to reveal a sliver of freckled white skin. Unlike her, Kinzie had plenty to do onboard. So much so, in fact, that America couldn't help thinking she was making work for herself to keep from having to think about what was actually going on.

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, the redhead dropped to the floor with a scowl at the interruption.

"Hey Kinzie, you wanna fuck?"

As expected, the joke was met with a deeper scowl as she dropped the weird-ass alien tool she was holding. Less expected was when she said "Let's go" and her fist connected with the Latina's jaw.

"Kinzie, what the fuck..." America's response and her attempt to massage her jaw were cut off when the redhead's hand grabbed her ponytail and wrenched her head up into a rough kiss.

It wasn't like America had never thought about it. Hell, it wasn't like she never thought about it when she got herself off in the shower. But she'd sure as hell never once imagined Kinzie'd actually go for it. Then she had to stop being surprised because Kinzie's girly little hands had unzipped her suit and were expertly squeezing handfuls of her huge tits as the redhead's tongue burrowed down her throat.

"Take it off," the redhead growled, and to America that sounded like a very good suggestion. The body she revealed when she stripped off the space suit was even more muscular than it had been before she took office; working out, after all, was pretty much the only way for her to relieve her built-up tension since her cabinet didn't approve of her beating the shit out of cops and gangbangers like she used to.

But then, this brave new world of alien armies and virtual reality was apparently home to even more avenues of stress relief than she'd been expecting.

The kiss got harder as Kinzie's thigh slid between her legs, making her already dripping pussy even wetter. "Hands up," the redhead ordered, and America was too horny and confused and so so so fucking horny to care.

She didn't realize she'd been pushed back into the alcove where Kinzie'd been working until the bundles of wires hanging down from above were wrapped around her wrists.

"Uh, Kinzie..."

"Shut up!" The next hot, hard kiss silenced her, except for the groan of pleasure when Kinzie's fingers started to pinch her nipple. She arched forward into the touch, only for Kinzie to squeeze so hard it hurt and drop her hands entirely, moving down to attack the Latina's tits with her mouth, sucking and biting until America's nipples were raw, her huge, heaving breasts were covered with hickies, and her cunt was streaming from the first breast-only orgasm...hell, make that the first orgasm...she'd had in a long fucking time.

When Kinzie dropped down and reached for her toolbox, America was a little terrified. She was also wetter than she'd been since she got to watch the panties-only catfight that had spontaneously erupted as a result of Asha and Viola's first meeting.

Kinzie smirked. When her hands came up, each one held a pair of needle-nose pliers. When they clamped down on her sensitized nipples, America bucked against the restraints.

America lost sight of the diminutive redhead, only to feel something much bigger and flatter and harder than a hand smack her ass cheek. She grunted, more in surprise than in pain, then again more in pain as the second blow landed. Kinzie wordlessly kept up the spanking until America's clit was throbbing from the shame and the pain, the Latina's ass thrusting back into her hands.

With nothing more than a sneer, Kinzie dropped down between America's legs, spreading the muscular thighs as wide as she could. When two fingers parted her cunt lips, America gasped. When the petite redhead's lips fastened around her clit and started to suck like a vacuum cleaner, America screamed.

Her cunt juices were gushing, which meant it was almost too easy for Kinzie to shove in two more fingers. Then the thumb. Then America's head was thrown back so hard she was afraid she'd break her neck by the fisting and the sucking and another painful orgasm ripping through her. Kinzie didn't let up, her other hand coming up to rub itself in the cream dripping down the Latina's thighs, only to crawl backwards to smear the lubrication around her boss' puckered asshole. America bucked when Kinzie's finger wormed its way into her, but just as quickly it left again. Then, something cold and hard took its place. America didn't realize it was another pair of pliers until it started to stretch her asshole wide, the pain searing and the scream of another orgasm wrenching itself from her raw throat. Kinzie didn't stop, just shoving her fist in faster and sucking harder and spreading her asshole wider until...

"Unicorn! Fuck, fuck, unicorn!"

Kinzie stopped. Then, as if a spell had been broken, she dropped to the deck. When America could finally move her head, she looked down, eyes stinging and throat in agony, and saw that she wasn't the only one crying.

Warring between the desire to get there as fast as possible and the knowledge that she was quite possibly restrained with the wires that kept them all from suffocating, America slowly but firmly worked her hand out of Kinzie's makeshift bindings. Her entire body felt like someone had dipped it in acid, and not entirely in a bad way. She dropped to her knees next to the still-fully-clothed redhead, and hesitantly touched her cheek.

"Oh God," Kinzie croaked. "Oh God, what do we do? Everything...what do we..."

America gathered her into an embrace, the genius' head on her still-sore breast, both their bodies shaking. "I don't know. Kinzie, I don't...everything's gonna be okay. I promise."

"How? How can it be okay?"

America didn't answer. She just held the redhead tighter as they cried.


	14. Professionalism

When she was thirty-seven, America Ortega, Captain of the USS Sainterprise (or whatever the fuck Pierce was calling it today), also finally learned how to deal with stress.

Despite everything that had happened, in spite of herself America found that she was starting to kind of like the simulation. Sure, on the one hand, there were no actual people, just hollow mockeries of the human race she'd been unable to save designed specifically to drive her to insanity and despair. But on the other hand, she had fucking superpowers. Existential angst seemed like such a small price to pay for the ability to lift a tank over her head with her mind.

"Asha, now!"

There was a blue and purple flash, and the venerated agent of an agency that no longer existed dropped out of the sky, driving her fist down the alien tank's main barrel and making it collapse on itself like a gazebo made of wet sauerkraut.

As the last of the Zin scattered into red pixels, Asha stretched. Given the way her new armor showed off her stomach, America wasn't complaining. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you were right. That is exquisite stress relief."

"Oh, just doing my part to keep my crew happy. How do you think everyone's doing?"

Asha let out a breath, even though she wasn't actually breathing, then leaned back against one of the park's many realistic-feeling trees. "Kinzie, Keith, Shaundi, and Matt are focusing on the job, so they probably won't explode until later. Pierce and Ben are finding other things to distract them. The robot I couldn't possibly care less about. And your friend Johnny scares the living shit out of me."

America grinned. She was still having a hard time believing that Johnny Fucking Gat was back in her life. "Ah, he's all right once you get to know him. What about you?"

Asha blinked. "What about me?"

America sat down on the edge of the fountain. "How are you holding up?"

Asha sighed. "Well, let's put it this way. I certainly don't mind a little stress relief."

The line made America grin, as did another quick glance down Asha's toned body. This time, the agent noticed. "What?"

"Nothing." She unabashedly took another look. "I just really like the new outfit."

Asha rolled her eyes, then disappeared in a cloud of pixels. By the time America managed to jump and glide and wallrun her way to one of Kinzie's gateways and follow her out, Asha was back where she always was, working out. Her stretching just brought America's attention back to the lithe, athletic body that must have been underneath that unflattering space suit.

Asha looked up with a sigh as she approached, but America just smiled. She needed some stress relief too.

"Asha, I respect you too much to bullshit you."

Asha snorted. "You don't respect me."

America shrugged. "No, that's...that's true."

The agent rolled her eyes, leaning back against the bench press they'd salvaged from the wreckage. "What do you want?"

America finally just leaned in. "I'm looking for rough sex and Kinzie scares the shit out of me."

Asha grimaced, eyes traveling thoughtfully up and down the Latina's muscular body, catching on the bounteous cleavage revealed by her suit. Asha sighed. "I stay on top, and you don't get to talk."

America grinned. "Deal!"

"Come on. If we're going to do this, we're going to make damn well sure no one finds out about it."

America followed wordlessly to the corridor behind the bridge, where Asha very efficiently tapped open the release for the escape pod hatch. "Strip and get in."

America grinned even as she started to comply. "Side of you I've never seen..."

Asha shoved her the rest of the way in, America's bare ass hitting the bench even as Asha started to strip off her own suit. "And I said no talking."

The pod was tight, barely enough room for Asha to grind against her lap, hands squeezing America's tits. "You do realize what a liability these are?" Asha growled as she palmed big handfuls of flesh. "Do you have any idea how it cuts into your combat reaction times to have these giant udders flopping around in front of you?"

She pinched America's nipples, and the Latina bucked up against her hips. When the twisting and pinching on the sensitive buds and the grinding of Asha's hot cunt just inches from hers had gotten America so wet she was ready to grab Asha and fuck her, damn their terms, Asha pushed down on her shoulders.

"Slide down." As America obeyed, Asha slid up, and to the Latina's delight that left the agent's neatly-trimmed black bush less than an inch from her face. "Now make me come."

America grabbed Asha's firm ass cheeks and pulled her in, both women groaning as America found the agent's slender, soaking lips. A few powerful strokes of her tongue, and America had Asha's murmured oaths to queen and country echoing through the escape pod.

America kneaded the muscular ass in her hands, pulling the cheeks apart until she could feel Asha's hole with the tip of her finger. At the same time her tongue sought out the spot just below Asha's clit, teasing and tormenting until Asha was all but pounding her hips against the Latina's face.

When her finger wormed its way into Asha's asshole, Asha squealed, and a flood of cunt juice covered America's face. She'd just capitalized on all the new lubrication to add two fingers to the agent's pussy when the airlock opened with a buzz.

Asha froze, and America lifted her head to look around her six-pack abs to find Pierce, fingers splayed over his eyes. "Uh, hey guys! So...CID says we got a Zin patrol on sensors, and we're gonna have to move the ship. So uh, you might want to strap-on...in! Strap in!"

Asha was frozen solid, but America was grinning. "Thanks, Pierce. I'm sure we can find something to hold on to."

"Uh...yeah. Right. Okay. Bye."

She could hear Pierce's stampeding footfalls even before the escape pod door hisses shut again. When it did, Asha finally moved.

"Oh my god..." She glanced down at the woman between her legs. "Stop laughing! This isn't funny!"

America didn't stop laughing.

Asha's hand grabbed hold of her ponytail, jerking her up to face her. "If you stop laughing right now, next time you get to be on top."

America stopped laughing.


	15. Ever After

When she was thirty-eight, America I, High Dictatrix and Empress of the Zin, finally got her happy ending.

"Excuse me, Your Excellency?"

America looked up with a glare as Shaundi sauntered into the computer room. Despite the fact that she now had Zinyak's entire fleet and the Emperor's personal quarters, she always seemed to end up back on their little ship. Probably because, with the exception of her own crew, none of her legions of subjects ever came here.

"Don't you fucking start with me too."

Shaundi held up her hands in mock surrender. She was actually smiling. It caught her off guard how good it felt to see Shaundi smiling again. "Just thought you'd like to know, Keith and Kinzie finished their inventory with Zinjai. There are about eleven million living humans in the pods."

America let out a sharp breath. "Jesus."

"They say it's more than enough to get a permanent colony going, wherever we eventually decide to settle down. CID's scanning for habitable planets he thinks we'll like, and some of the guys were already talking about a name..."

America rolled her eyes. "I don't care how much Pierce bitches, we are not calling it Planet Saints!"

Shaundi collapsed into the chair next to hers. "Oh, thank God."

"Wonder how many other kinds of aliens are in those pods. We might not just be looking for one planet."

Shaundi nodded, eyes on America. "God, I still can't get used to you with that accent."

The Latina snorted. "Yeah, well thank Pierce. He's the one who said America didn't want a president with a ghetto accent and a dyke haircut."

Shaundi smirked. "He also said they wouldn't want a president who looked like a professional wrestler, but you did all right."

America shook her head. "Been a hell of a ride, hasn't it?"

Shaundi rubbed her neck with a groan. Just like when they'd first merged with Ultor, or when they'd first started campaigning, Shaundi seemed to be working harder than anyone. "That is an understatement."

America couldn't help giving the brunette a glance as she stretched out; gone was the stoner girl she'd met...Jesus, over fifteen years ago, and in her place was a mature woman who America hardly even recognized sometimes. She shook her head. "You've changed so much."

Shaundi gave her a fond smile. "We both have."

"Yeah, I guess so." America tipped her own head back with a groan. "Hey, whatever happened with that guy who won your dating show?"

Shaundi laughed. "Puerto Rican Thunder God? He was sweet and all, but...performance didn't live up to the name."

America sucked in a breath. It's been fifteen fucking years, she thought. Just say it.

She let out an angry sigh. "Look, I gotta tell you something..." Shaundi met her eyes, and she winced away. "It always drove me crazy that you had exes in every city, and were even willing to go on a dating show, but..." Her gaze locked on Shaundi's. "...not once did you ever give me a shot."

Shaundi froze, except for her shocked blinking. Then she swallowed. "You never asked for one," she murmured.

America licked her lips. Now or never. "I'm asking now."

Slowly, a smile spread across Shaundi's face, and she slid out of her chair toward America's. "Then let's make up for lost time..."

The first kiss made America moan, Shaundi's lips soft and hard against hers, Shaundi's knee pressing against her lap as she straddled the chair. Her hands went to Shaundi's slender waist, the brunette's squeezing her muscular arms. When she pulled back, they were both grinning like idiots.

"Jesus, I've been wanting to do that for fifteen fucking years," America breathed.

Shaundi's smile twitched, and then she straightened, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hold that thought."

America took the offered hand, letting Shaundi pull her up into another kiss. The Latina was so caught up in it she didn't realize where Shaundi was leading her until her back hit the cradle.

"What..."

As the arms closed around her and she heard the connection to the simulation warming up, Shaundi grinned. "I'll be right behind you."

When the blue light faded, America was in the city, in the tight purple pants and bikini top she used to wear on the street. It was night, and she was standing on a rooftop in New Colvin, not far from the gravity-defying wreckage of what used to be Zimos' place.

When she turned around, Shaundi was standing in the light of the gateway, grinning at her.

Or rather, Shaundis were standing there.

America still couldn't wrap her head around having the virtual clone or whatever she was of Shaundi's younger self. It made her think about Stilwater, about another lifetime that seemed almost laughably strait-laced by comparison to the life she was living now. She couldn't help a melancholy smile as the the two women looked at each other.

Young Shaundi and New Shaundi, as she'd taken to calling them since neither responded well to being called 'Old Shaundi,' shared a glance and a conspiratorial smile. "Hey me?" New Shaundi purred.

"Yeah me?" Young Shaundi answered.

"You remember all that stuff we fantasized about doing with the Boss?"

Young Shaundi just grinned.

Their clothes were off in seconds; some were thrown down from the roof to the backyard below, but since everyone involved had superpowers some were just atomized. America's Shaundi pulled her in for a kiss, only to immediately trade the Latina off to her younger self, four hands rubbing and squeezing and starting to finger all the most sensitive places on America's body. She arched into New Shaundi's hand cupping her snatch while Young Shaundi leaned down to play with her breasts, first with her hands, then with her mouth.

"God, you have to feel these nipples..." Young Shaundi moaned around one of them, so New Shaundi inclined her head with a joyous laugh and suddenly America had two mouths making love to her breasts.

"Oh, fuck..." Her hands were on the backs of their heads as two of New Shaundi's fingers slid inside her. When the brunette bucked, she looked down to find Young Shaundi doing the same to her counterpart. The sight made her almost as hot as the older brunette's fingers, and she was positive she was dripping all over Shaundi's hand.

"Either of you ever do a daisy chain?"

The Shaundis just grinned as the three of them collapsed in a pile on the roof, bodies sliding past one another until they were in position. She ended up with Young Shaundi's thighs open before her, and New Shaundi's lips teasing up and down her thighs.

America's first hit of Shaundi's taste made her groan, tongue slipping between the fleshy lips even as the other Shaundi's fingers parted hers. Soon, all three women were moaning, both Shaundis reaching for her tits, squeezing and making her buck against New Shaundi's mouth.

When Young Shaundi came in her mouth, it sparked a chain reaction, and soon all three of them were screaming.

"Switch!" America gasped, and there was a moment of delicious friction, breasts and thighs and hands rubbing together as they reoriented themselves. She started licking the results of New Shaundi's orgasm from her thighs even as the felt Young Shaundi do the same to hers; the taste was the same, but different.

Young Shaundi's tongue was somehow even more skillful against her cunt than her older counterpart's had been, perhaps because New Shaundi had been so focused on men for so long, and despite the fact that she'd already come it wasn't long before her hips bucked again, Young Shaundi moaning as she gulped down America's cream. That made her redouble her efforts against the other Shaundi's gorgeous cunt, kissing up and down her lips and licking teasingly across her clit. She shifted as Young Shaundi disappeared from between her legs, only to be pushed aside when the young brunette's head slid down next to hers, half kissing America and half helping her toy with her counterpart's pussy.

When Shaundi came, it was with a flood of moisture that coated both her lovers' faces, and Young Shaundi wasted no time in bowling America over, kissing and licking and sucking until her face was clean. When she sat up, her breasts were heaving and her thighs were scissored with America's. As she turned back to her gasping counterpart, she dissolved into giggles.

"Fuck, that was so worth the wait..."

She stood on shaking legs, grinning from ear to ear as America and Shaundi rolled back together. "Have fun, you two..."

Young Shaundi disappeared, leaving the two of them panting on the cold rooftop. Shaundi groaned. "Fuck, I don't think I can move..."

America looked down at her naked body with a grin. She'd seen Shaundi naked before, like the rest of the world had, but she'd never seen her, or anyone, look this beautiful. "You know if we go back to the real world, we'll have all our energy back..."

Shaundi just grinned, then disappeared in a twinkle of blue light. When America popped herself out of the simulation, Shaundi was already in the process of stripping her.

Hours later, the two women lay together, legs still intertwined and covered with their mingled juices, breasts still heaving as America inclined her head to suckle gently at Shaundi's long pink nipple.

Shaundi let out a breathy laugh. "Well, it's about fucking time."

"I can't believe we waited fifteen years to do that."

Shaundi laughed. "Well, as long as we don't have to wait fifteen years to do it again." Her grin faded as she turned to look at America. "Boss...I never really thanked you. Everything you've done for me...the life I have, it's all because of you. I don't deserve any of this..."

The Latina pulled her closer. "I love you, Shaundi."

The brunette broke into a relieved grin.

"I love you...America."


	16. An Inside Look

_Jane: So...what can you tell me about this next scene?_

_Shaundi: Okay, so this next scene...wait, are we actually showing that? There's no way that was going to be in the game._

_America: Relax, Shaundi, it's fan fiction.They can do whatever they want._

_Shaundi: Okay fine, but it's still bullshit._

_America: Oh, you're just jealous._

_Shaundi: No, I just think it's a stupid scene. It comes out of nowhere, it adds shit to the plot, it's just contextless porn!_

_America: Seriously, hon, have you read the rest of this thing? That's the whole point, inserting random sexual encounters into the marginalia of Saints Row._

_Shaundi: Oh, please, you've never used the word 'marginalia' in your life, that's just the author trying to sound clever to make up for writing porn about video game characters! And you didn't even use it right!_

_America: Look, just watch the scene. Or read it, I guess. Whatever._

_Shaundi: I need a drink._

When she was thirty eight, the Playa/Boss/President, customized protagonist of the Saints Row video game series, got as broken as the fourth wall.

She woke up, not really knowing how she'd gotten where she was. She'd been fighting the Dominatrix, her vision had gone all blurry, and then...then she was here, in what appeared to be an abandoned parking garage somewhere in simulated Steelport. She tried to move her arms. Then she tried to move her legs. Then she tried to move anything.

Well, shit.

The clicking of stiletto heels on the concrete made her look up, as much as she could from her position bound and collared to the floor. The Dominatrix sneered.

"You know, I tried to do this the...pleasurable way. I was practically begging you to submit willingly. But now you've gone and forced my hand. So now you'll have to be the one who begs."

"You're wasting your time, bitch," America grunted. "I've been topped by Kinzie Kensington and Asha Odekar. You think some leather straps and a bad attitude are gonna break me?"

The domineering woman smirked as she leaned down to draw a leather-gloved finger down America's cheek. "Oh, my poor, naive little girl. You're not going to break because of the straps. You're going to break when I bring you to the edge of orgasm for the eighty-sixth time. You're going to weep and beg and call me your goddess just to make me finally slide my finger inside..."

_Shaundi: Ugh, please._

_America: Oh my god, you are jealous! That's adorable!_

_Shaundi: Fuck you._

_America: Whenever you want, babe._

America ground her teeth. Sure, between the restraints and the image that was putting in her head, she was getting a little damp, but she wasn't going to break that easily. She wasn't going to give the bitch the satisfaction.

"I must say, I'm deeply disappointed in your choice of undergarments," the Dominatrix droned on as her finger stroked the edge of the thong America only now realized was the only thing she was wearing. "I assumed a massive slut like you would at least wear something crotchless. And you are, aren't you? Sticking your tongue in every pussy that slows down long enough, and every time you think you're the one in control, the one doing the seducing. Too mindless and horny to recognize the truth..."

America gasped as the woman's fingers slid down the suture of her twat, pushing the black fabric inside. She felt the woman's generous, leather-clad breasts press against her bare back as the Dominatrix leaned down to her ear.

"You were born on your knees."

"Fuck you," America growled, an act of defiance that earned her a mind-numbingly searing spank that left her exposed ass red and quivering and tears forming in her eyes. Holy shit, how could anyone hit that hard?

"Not until I order you to!"

Just as suddenly, the Dominatrix's hand turned gentle, massaging the stinging flesh. "You said it yourself. You've been taken before. By women who you could have overpowered with one hand." America gasped as the fingers slid down, cupping her hot, swollen mound. "You've always been a sub. You were just waiting for the right domme."

America arched her back, what little she could, when the Dominatrix unceremoniously pushed aside the crotch of her panties and slid two of those long fingers inside her. Fuck, how was she this turned on, this close to coming, already? This bitch had barely touched her! The Dominatrix smirked wider.

_Shaundi: Ugh, can we at least skip to the end? This is going to take forever._

_America: Fine by me. That's my favorite part._

_Shaundi: Oh yeah, big surprise..._

America's mouth met the leather goddess' open, fragrant slit with a vengeance, groaning the instant her tongue lapped up the first hit of her delicious nectar. Fuck, she tasted so good, so good that America could only dig deeper, pushing her tongue in to wriggle between the fat lips, wishing she had her hands free so she could grab that firm ass and grind the Dominatrix against her. The woman moaned above her, biting down on her glove to try to maintain her composure, but America just smirked. She'd been right, back in the beginning; America had eaten a lot of pussy. And she was about to use everything she knew.

Her worship was total; her lips, her teeth, her tongue, each one sought out every inch of the Dominatrix's gushing sex, sucking and licking and biting and chewing until the woman groaned around her glove, hips popping forward to deliver her first orgasm straight into America's ravenous mouth. Not content with one, the Latina immediately fixed her lips on the woman's sensitized clit, sucking and slurping and bringing on a second orgasm in instants. She licked and lapped the copious juice that spilled down, even as half of it ran down her chin and her throat and her bare, heaving breasts, nipples rock hard from the thrill and the flavor. Drinking turned to exploring, and soon the flat of her tongue was back to spreading the Dominatrix's lips, nose brushing her clit and drawing an undisciplined squeal every time.

When the third orgasm hit, the Dominatrix grunted, the line between pain and pleasure she'd been designed to straddle finally rearing its head. Her hands tightened in America's hair, trying to pull the Saint's head back for a moment to recover. But America's head wasn't moving, and her mouth wasn't stopping.

"Stop!" The Dominatrix commanded as America gave her clit another lick. America shook her head, the action rubbing her plump lips across the breadth of the open snatch before her. The Dominatrix scowled. "Your mistress comm...commands you to stop!"

America did pull back, but only far enough to grin. "What, didn't you hear?" Her grin turned evil. "I'm a power bottom!"

That was all the warning the Dominatrix had before two fingers slammed inside her. America laughed in triumph as the woman moaned above her; all that lubrication dripping down her, and the Dominatrix still hadn't ever considered she might get out of the restraints. Now it was time to see who really

_Shaundi: Okay! We get it! You make her come a few more times, then she teleports away and it ends with some kind of quip about your final showdown to establish its place in the timeline of the DLC, we've got it! Can we move on, please?_

_America: Shaundi..._

_Shaundi: No, I'm done! I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you fucking some random evil slut!_

_America: Hey, come on, Ruth wasn't really evil, she was a joy to work with..._

_Shaundi: It's bad enough we had to sit through all that shit about you and Kinzie, which I don't mind, you know that, fuck her whenever you want, but with the ropes and the spanking and shit and—_

_America: Wait. Is that what this is about? You think you're not, what...dominant enough for me?_

_Shaundi: Well, I mean, it's just...you're the big, muscular bulldyke and I'm the girly girl, and I just figured...that was what you wanted, but if you really are some kind of..._

_America: Shaundi._

_Shaundi: Goddammit, I just..._

_America: Shaundi. You know you're being insane, right? I mean, you have read the rest of this thing, it's gotta be pretty fucking obvious that the author ships us. What I have with you is exactly what I want._

_Shanudi: I...really? I mean...I don't know what to say._

_America: Of course, I still wanna fuck other chicks when I get the chance._

_Shaundi: Oh yeah, totally._


	17. Thawing

When she was thirty eight, America Ortega, lifelong mainstay of the naughty list, learned about the joys of giving.

It wasn't that she'd hated the holidays. At least, not initially. But her mother had always worked on Christmas, had never had the time or money to get presents or a tree or spend time with her. Eventually, she'd just sort of decided Christmas was a waste of time.

Then she'd met the actual real-life fucking Santa Claus and, well, there you go.

She had to admit that, once she got into it, the whole Christmas thing was pretty fun. Even if it was just all of them hanging out on the ship with a plastic tree and Pierce singing Christmas carols, it was pretty nice to see everybody together and happy after so long.

Well...almost everybody.

"So what, you thought you could just sneak off back to the future when no one was looking?"

Future Shaundi paused halfway through the cargo bay, turning back to see America leaning against the open hatchway and smiling at her. She fidgeted.

"I...I have to get back to my own time."

"You're a time traveler, it's not like it's going anywhere. Besides...it's Christmas."

Future Shaundi sighed. "He was right. Santa. I had to...harden myself so much to live like this. And now...I don't know how to go back."

America pushed herself off from the doorway. "Hey, come on. You're still you."

The other woman snorted angrily. "I'm half fucking metal! I turned myself into this—"

"Hey." America's hand on her cheek was enough to make her shut up. "The arm? The eye? The whole cyberpunk warrior thing? You know what I think?" America grinned. "It's sexy as shit."

The badass future commando actually blushed. America licked her lips.

"I know I shouldn't ask about the future, but...you and me. Did we...were we still..."

Future Shaundi swallowed. "I missed you," she answered. America grinned and leaned in until their lips touched.

The brunette responded to the kiss automatically, and it was just like kissing her Shaundi, and much, much different; harder, and at the same time less confident. When she pulled back, Shaundi was shaking. "I...I have to go, I..."

"Shh," America murmured against her lips. "Just let me give you your present first."

On the second kiss, Shaundi surrendered. Her arms tightened around America's waist, one cold and hard and the other warm but just as hard. When the flesh one started to tug on the zipper of her jumpsuit, America chuckled into her mouth; clearly this Shaundi wasn't any more interested in taking it slow than her counterparts from the past.

Getting America naked was easy—the one thing she actually liked about the ugly gray jumpsuits Kinzie still insisted they wear onboard—but Future Shaundi took more time. Her outfit was covered in belts and straps and layers, and more pressingly her body tensed every time America tried to undo one. But the Latina just kissed the exposed skin until Shaundi relented. When they were both finally naked, they separated, Shaundi taking in the busty, muscular, tattooed body in front of her with a distant look in her eyes.

"You're just like I remember," she muttered, and America looked down at the scarred, hardened, augmented form shaking against her with a smile.

"So are you."

When they came together again, America's thigh slid between Future Shaundi's and the brunette gasped, making America wonder how long it had been for her. Well, however long it was, it was definitely long enough.

Her hands sought out the slender brunette's breasts, making Shaundi buck against her and bury her face in her lover's neck, biting down to keep from screaming. America reveled in the pain as she tweaked and rolled Shaundi's nipples, feeling the warmth of her pussy getting wetter and wetter against her leg, the motions slicker and faster with every pass. "Oh God, oh God," Shaundi was moaning against her skin, and fuck America would never get tired of that sound.

"I want you to come," she growled into Shaundi's ear as she ground them together. "I want you to come for me."

Shaundi did so with gusto. Her hips shot forward and a pathetic squeal was ripped from her throat, her entire body shaking against America's, a trail of telltale moisture flowing down the Latina's leg. America assumed Shaundi was finished, but before long the brunette's hands began to move, sliding up her chest to cup her heaving breasts. America could feel her own quim clenching, desperate for more contact as Shaundi leaned up to kiss her again.

"Does that hand vibrate?"

Shaundi grunted into her mouth. "No, but it can produce a mild electrical charge...it was designed to—"

America grinned. "Oh, just shut up and use the damn thing!"

Shaundi gingerly slid the robotic hand down, a nervous look on her face; she'd obviously never used it this way before, and the fact that she'd never even tried it on herself proved just how different this Shaundi was. When the cold, smooth fingers slid between her lips, America let out a groan of arousal.

"Oh, fuck..."

Emboldened, Future Shaundi parted her lips, two fingers entering her lover's channel and the thumb rising up to stroke a cool pad over her clit. America couldn't help but smile at how easily Shaundi found the rhythm...just like old times.

America was so close to coming, and she prayed Shaundi could tell. Her question was answered when she felt a distinct electrical tingle begin to build between her legs. At first it was barely noticeable, subsumed in the pleasure of Shaundi's thrusting fingers, but soon it became impossible to ignore. A million tiny fingers caressed her clit, and her hips bucked forward as the pleasure intensified. She looked up to find Shaundi smirking, the only warning she got before the brunette's fingers began to fuck her for all she was worth.

America moaned and gasped as she rode the artificial fingers, Future Shaundi's human hand squeezing her breast even as the robotic one drove her insane. She could feel the tension building, her breathing going raspy and her nipples straining, begging to be touched...

A tiny bolt of lightning licked her clit, and she screamed.

When Shaundi pulled back from between her shaking legs, she and America were both looking at the robotic hand with glazed eyes. "I hope that thing's waterproof," America mumbled.

To her utter delight, Shaundi laughed.

And even in the face of the blinding, mind-destroying orgasm she'd just had, that was the best Christmas present she could have asked for.


	18. Good Intentions

When she was thirty nine, America Ortega, President and God Emperor for Life and recent shotgun wedding attendee, was a very bad influence.

America had never really been religious. Sure, she'd been raised Catholic-ish thanks to her mother, but that was habit, not faith, and by the time she was old enough to choose for herself she preferred to spend her Sundays corrupting girls. She hadn't really believed in God.

Of course, she hadn't believed in zombies, aliens, time travel, or Santa Claus either, and look how that turned out.

She knocked on the doorframe of their newest associate's new bedroom. Pierce had taken care of her accommodations, so America hadn't seen the final product. It was...pink.

Very pink.

Jezebel looked up with a nervous smile. "Oh, hi! Is everything all right?"

America smiled. Jezebel was nice enough, though she seemed a little awkward around the Latina. Probably had something to do with that whole thing about her father kidnapping her and forcing them to marry each other, America figured.

"Just wanted to see how you're settling in."

"Oh, I'm doing great! Everyone's been really nice. Well, except that Asha woman. She's...kind of mean." America shook her head with a smirk. Satan's daughter, ladies and gentlemen.

"Well, you get used to her."

The young demoness smiled. "Hey...I don't know if I ever thanked all of you for...you know, getting me out of there."

"We should be thanking you. If it weren't for this whole thing with your dad, we wouldn't have this shiny new planet we're heading to. So we kind of owe you one." Jezebel smiled. "So, what are you gonna do now that you're a free woman?"

Jezebel licked her lips, her smile turning bashful. "Well...all I've really wanted this whole time was..." She fluttered her eyelashes, striking a pose with her hands over her heart. "To find love..."

As she opened her mouth, America winced. "Shit, are you gonna sing again?"

Jezebel closed her mouth with a sheepish smile. "No. I...I'm trying to cut down." America snorted, and the demoness licked her lips. "I'm actually kind of glad you're here. Could I...ask you for a huge favor?"

"Anything for my favorite hellspawn. I mean, after Kinzie."

"Okay..." Jezebel took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "Will you take my virginity?"

America blinked, positive she'd misheard. "What?"

Jezebel's cheeks were bright red, even against her already reddish cheeks. "I was just...I was talking to Shaundi, and I told her that Matt said I should save myself for the person I love, and she laughed, like a lot, and said that I needed experience, and I was trying to figure out who to ask, because Johnny or Kinzie would just be too awkward, and I don't think Pierce likes girls, and then I thought that since we were supposed to get married then maybe it wasn't as—"

The rest of Jezebel's rant disappeared into America's mouth with a squeak. When the Latina pushed her back from the kiss, she was grinning. "Shut up and get your ass in bed."

The young demoness bit her lip as she eagerly complied, the motion making her short skirt flip up to reveal the little white panties underneath. Jesus, how could the devil's daughter be so fucking...wholesome?

America wasted no time in burrowing her nose into those panties, taking a deep sniff and eliciting a sharp moan; she hadn't really thought much about what a demon's pussy would smell like, but in retrospect the sweet and spicy scent seemed about like what she should have expected.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" she growled, and Jezebel squeaked.

"I, um...I don't know..."

America sighed dramatically. "All right, fine. I guess we'll start with everything..."

Jezebel squeaked again as America's thumbs slid under the legs of her panties, tugging them down her smooth red skin. She blushed and pressed her thighs together to try to cover herself up, but that just served to beautifully frame the plump red suture of her decidedly un-demonic-looking pussy. America slid a tickling finger between the tightly-clenched lips, and Jezebel sucked in a gasp.

"Open wide," America purred, stroking back down, and Jezebel's thighs slowly began to part, which let America's finger work her open to reveal the pink wetness she'd been trying to hide. America dipped the finger inside then, when that met with an enthusiastic moan, added another.

"Oh my gosh," Jezebel breathed, and America would have rolled her eyes if not for the hypnotic view in front of her.

"Why don't you take your dress off," she muttered, and Jezebel's hands immediately went from clenching around the bedsheets to begin undoing the ties of her old-fashioned bodice. America rewarded her by pushing her fingers deeper and flicking her tongue out to touch the demoness' clit, and Jezebel rewarded her right back with a breathy moan and a rush of sweet, slick moisture on her fingers.

American saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked up just in time to watch Jezebel fling away her dress to reveal the slender waist and perky little breasts underneath. America's free hand reached up for one of them, and Jezebel groaned and arched up into her. America began to move her fingers again, and Jezebel squealed, looking down in wonder as the mortal woman played with her body.

"Oh my gosh! Is...is sex always like this?"

America blinked innocently up at her.

"Oh? Did you want to have sex? This is just foreplay."

Jezebel's eyes went wide, then even wider as America straightened and undid the zipper of her jumpsuit. She peeled the unflattering garment away, revealing curves and muscles and tattoos that made Jezebel's mouth drop open. America climbed up onto the bed, slipping her hand under one of Jezebel's knees with a grin.

"You might want to hold on to something."

Jezebel's brows furrowed, but the question on her lips turned into a moan as America's pussy ground down against hers.

"Oh! Oh, what...oh! Oh, yes!"

America grinned, savoring the feel of the young (presumably) demoness' slick lips and hardened clit sliding and rubbing and grinding against hers. She was hot, inhumanly so, and so fucking wet. "You like that?" she grunted, and Jezebel squealed her assent.

The hand that wasn't pinned by Jezebel's leg stretched back down to her chest, bouncing with every thrust, and the motion just made them grind together harder. Jezebel was panting, glistening with sweat and red-faced—well, more than normal—with desire. Her lips parted in a dainty circle as America's warm, wet folds momentarily sucked at her clit, then again when hers did the same to America.

"Oh, oh gosh, I...I think I'm going to...oh!"

Jezebel's hips surged up, and America could feel the cute little devil gush and spasm against her. Jezebel's orgasm shook her entire body, the clenching and the wet heat and the vibration enough to set America off too. When it was over, her sweaty body collapsed on top of Jezebel's. The demoness let out a breath.

"So...that's...that's how mortals have sex?"

America chuckled. "It's one way."

Pressed together as they were, she could hear Jezebel's heart skip a beat. "There are other ways?"

America grinned as her lips settled on Jezebel's throat. "Ooh yeah. A shit ton."

Jezebel bit her lip. "I think I'm going to like the mortal world..."


	19. Epilogue

When she was forty, America Elena Ortega, a girl from the Stilwater barrio, finally got the recognition she deserved.

"Boss?" America looked up. For all his faults, Pierce was the only one who didn't keep trying to call her 'Empress,' even as a joke. "Someone to see you."

America grinned, hunched over in the too-big throne that was now hers. She'd thrown some pillows on it, but it was still uncomfortable as hell; unfortunately, the Zin liked unambiguous symbols of superiority and the humans of New Earth liked a photo-op, so she still had to put on the occasional big show.

"Show her in."

The small, mousy brunette stepped past Pierce, nodding politely as she approached the throne. "Your Majesty." The woman bowed, and America winced.

"Jesus, Jane, I keep telling you not to call me that."

Jane Austen smiled. "Apologies. Boss. A lifetime of Old World breeding is not so easily cast aside, I'm afraid. Now...how might I be of service?"

America leaned back, then thought better of it and just got off the throne altogether, sitting on the steps leading up to it as Jane leaned down to her level.

"I've just been thinking lately. About my life. My story. Just wondering whether anyone'll remember it."

Jane's eyes went wide. "Surely you can't be serious? You're the Empress of most of this galaxy. You saved the human race from extinction. No one will ever forget you."

America sighed angrily. "They'll never forget the fuckin' statues of me. What about the real me? What about the ghetto kid whose mama threw a bottle at her head when she came out? What about the woman who had to shoot a kid who loved her in the head rather than let him suffer? What about the stupid bitch who almost ruined a merger with Ultor because she thought one of the board members was hitting on her?"

She glanced back at the throne with a melancholy smile, thoughts on the only times it wasn't uncomfortable: when Shaundi was on it with her, in her arms. "What about the woman in love?"

She turned back to find Jane looking at her thoughtfully. America sniffed. "You write the stories, Jane. I was just, you know..." She shrugged awkwardly. "Hoping you'd write mine."

The writer blinked. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "I'd be honored, my friend."

Jane pulled out the notebook and ballpoint pen she always carried (Kinzie having consistently failed in her attempts to get the woman to use a computer) and took a deep breath. "Where would you like to begin?"

America leaned back with a fond sigh, memories drifting back.

"Well, when I was growing up in Encanto in Stilwater, I used to play basketball with the neighborhood boys..."


End file.
